


Tales from an Ordinary Life

by FabiusMaximus



Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-07-28 23:49:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16252319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FabiusMaximus/pseuds/FabiusMaximus
Summary: After the fire and thunder comes the quiet of an ordinary life. For many heroes, it is a gift beyond compare, but it brings challenges of its own-Challenges that can't be defeated by a sword or magic spell... Snippets set post Season 3, with spoilers for Trollhunters, focusing on the characters' life after Arcadia.





	1. Chapter 1

June quickly bicycled up to the house. Mom and Dad had bought a house in the suburbs by one the large parks where Dad would quickly be able to get to work if he was needed. But right now, the house was dark.

_Oh Good, maybe they_ _’re both late and nobody will realize I’m totally_ beyond _late._

She quickly opened the door with her key and snuck in. June took a deep breath of relief—

—and then one of mom’s portals opened up and mom appeared. She stared at June, face white, then took a deep breath.

“Oh, thank God,” she breathed, her voice a near whisper. Then, louder, “June, where _were_ you?”

“I was just out with my friends,” June said. _Why does mom look like she_ _’s about to faint?_ Mom didn’t _do_ scared.  Not even when that angry troll had shown up at their front door, demanding Dad come out and fight him.  Mom had just smiled, then opened a portal to the East River and used the spray of water to hose the troll down the street and kept spraying him until he calmed down.

“You’re _five hours_ past your curfew!” Mom said. “Didn’t you think to call?”

“I… Um forgot?”  June said, rubbing one of her small horns. She’d thought about calling to say that they’d missed the first showing of the movie, but then she’d been talking to Marcie and after that they were in the movie and then…

_Well, You sort of hoped that they didn_ _’t know you were late._ Sometimes Mom and Dad worked late. Calling them would have defeated the purpose of hoping they didn’t _notice_ she was late. Then she blinked. “Where’s the Runt?”

“ _Stacy_ is with uncle Blinky, who is currently _organizing a search for you!_ _”_ her mother’s voice was getting louder. Then she shook her head. “Right, I need to call him.” Moments later, she was on the phone. “Blinky, this is Claire, cancel the search, June is home. I’ll call Jim and hope he hasn’t killed anyone yet.”

“Dad?”  June laughed. “Mom aren’t you bei—”

“June, why do we tell you to never play with young troll whelps?”

June sighed dramatically. “Because troll parents have a nearly instinctual protective response that they can’t always…” She blinked. “But Dad’s a half troll and I go to school.”

“Trust me. Convincing Jim to let you go off to school alone wasn’t an easy conversation and why do you think _I_ was the only parent present for that conference about your bullying problem?  Jim has less of an instinct, not _no_ instinct.” Her phone beeped again. “Ah, Jim got Blinky’s text and he’s… Yeah.” One uplifted hand and a portal appeared as her father charged into the room, fully armored, sword blazing with energy.

“What happened!” he said, his voice, deep, guttural. It was rattling the _windows._ “Did someone take you? Did someone _hurt_ you, June?!” June found herself pushing back into the couch.

“Jim!” Mom snapped. “You’re frightening her. Nobody hurt her, she’s fine. Calm down.” She reached up and ran her hand over his head and horn, her petite form tiny next to her husbands. “It’s okay. June was just… Forgetting to call us.”

“Forgetting?” Dad’s voice was calmer now. “For _five hours?_ ”

“It was—It wasn’t that bad!”

“Killed by angry stalking. Shot by a mugger,” Dad said, his voice tense. “Captured by one of the Scions of Gunmar. You know, the people that _hate me_.”

“Or…” Claire said, and suddenly there was a little catch in her voice. “Just hit by a drunk driver down  by the turnpike, tossed off your bike into that overgrown gully, where you’d be, unconscious, hurt, maybe dying, while we were looking for you, with no idea where you were. Maybe no idea until it was too late.” She smiled. “I’ve faced Gunmar, Morgana, and more, and I can tell you that these have easily been the most terrifying hours in my life.”

_I scared Mom? I scared Dad?_   That was… They didn’t _do scared._ But they were, and now she had an unpleasant feeling in her belly.

“June, we let you go out with your friends without many rules because we trust you. But that means that you have to accept the boundaries we _do_ set.”   Claire sighed and brushed her hair back. Suddenly Mom looked _tired._ So did Dad. “But right now, I don’t think it is a good time to have this conversation. I’m wiped out from all the portals, we’re both upset, and I think we all need to be calm, rested, and have good blood sugar levels—or Chromium levels, in your father’s case.  Go to bed—we’ll talk about this in the morning.”

“Right…” June got up and started for the stairway to her room. “M-Mom?”

“Yes, Dear?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know, but we’ll still have to talk about it tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

Later, after June had gone to bed and the light under her door had turned off, Claire and Jim were sitting on the couch, staring at the dark TV. Claire had changed into her fluffy nightgown and was leaning up against Jim. Jim was breathing slowly, running through the mediation exercises he’d been taught.

“So. Exile to Siberia?”  Claire asked.

“4:00PM curfew for the next week,” her husband replied. “We’ve also got some yardwork that needs doing.”

“She won’t mind the work,” Claire murmured sleepily.

“No. She’s a good kid.”  There was an odd tone to Jim’s voice.

“What?” Claire asked, looking up to him.

“Noth—”

Claire cleared her throat and leveled a warning gaze at her husband.

“Right. I never really apologized to Mom. For all the times I just left, even when she told me to stay. For the time we lied to her about the troll attack, even though she was a _doctor_. God, she thought I’d been getting involved in crime, that they might arrest me or find my body by the canals one day.” He closed his eyes. “If I had died… If we had died, there was every chance that our parents would have _never_ known what happened to us. We would have just walked out of our homes one day—and never come back. I never apologized. Not really”

“Not really?”

“June… If anything happened to her…” One hand clenched, trollish muscles creaking. “I kept thinking about everything, about how it would be my fault if one of our enemies had hurt her. What if she was screaming for mommy and daddy and _we weren_ _’t there…_ ”

Claire put her hands over his hand. “Relax.  If you want to call her, Barbara is on night shift, remember? If I read the time difference right she should be _just about_ getting to her break.”

“Right.” Jim looked down at his wife and kissed her. “I’ll be right back.”

Claire leaned back, staring at the ceiling. From the next room she heard the sound of the phone, followed by Jim’s voice. “Mom? No, nothing’s wrong… I just… Well, for all those times I vanished on you?  I want to say I’m sorry.  For the first time, I really understand what I did to you…”

She smiled, then made a note to get up a little early. _Her_ parents didn’t have night shifts, but Claire decided she owed them a call as well.

 


	2. A chat between Veterans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winning the war can often be easier than the aftermath. Claire thinks about her life, with some help from Merlin.

Claire looked out over the streets of the city. Full of people. Students, some of them her age, some of them older, adults, parents pushing their children in strollers, and sitting at the cafe…

Claire. Jim wasn’t here. Not with a bright sun shining in the cold winter sky, but he’d chivvied her out of New Trollmarket, and Blinky had agreed. “You’re not joined at the hip!” he’d told them.

Then he’d whispered to Claire “That was on a list of sayings your parents have sent me.”

So here she was. She’d gone into a book store, read a little, sat, taking in the crowds when there was no worry, no possible danger, just people.

And she felt alone.

“My teacher is going to totally freak if I don’t get that test in…” Someone her age, wailing to her friends. It had been months since Claire had worried about that. She’d been taking distance learning, but graduate with her school? Never. At most, she’d have a note that she had graduated but not attended graduation.

_And worse of all? I don_ _’t know if I’d belong._ They’d done so much. She’d seen people die. She’d seen people almost die—like Jim. _She_ had almost died.

And she’d killed. Trolls were people, just like humans and she had killed them. Some of them were victims of Gunmar’s blade.

They were dead and here she was sipping hot chocolate. She’d given orders, led, and now…

_What now?_ Was she just going to spend the rest of her life working in New Trollmarket? Go back to some school where people would pat her on the head and tell her she’d understand when she was older?

“Ah, Fair Claire. May I sit down?”

She looked up and then blinked. _Merlin?_ He was wearing a _tailored_ suit, silver cuff-links gleaming in the light and wore it with the same ease he wore his armor.

“You—is that magic?”

“Well,the tailor had tools that would have once been considered magic, but no, I purchased this. Your economic system is actually fairly easy to understand, once you have a chance to sit down and think about it.” He smiled, looking around. “As is much of your society. Do you know I learned today that childbed death is so rare as to be considered a great tragedy? In my time it was… an inevitability. I am happy that Jim’s mother has such an honorable calling.” He sat down and gestured to the waitress.

“Well, she isn’t very happy with you.”

_I_ _’m not, either._

“For manipulating the Trollhunter? Cutting him off from your council and convincing him that transforming himself was the only hope to defeat Gunmar? She is not the only one, though I do not apologize. Regardless, I pray that you and your lover will be able to ensure that he is the last such sacrifice that is needed.”

“What about you?”

“I will spend some time tutoring you. Then I expect to retire, spend my time traveling, exploring this world.” Suddenly Merlin looked up at her, and his eyes were…

_Tired._

“I have buried my parents, my friends. My boon companions—too many. You may find it strange, but this old man had friends as close as Jim, as Toby…and I have outlived them all. I could tell you stories that would have us all roaring in laughter…” He closed his eyes. “And you would nod politely, but not understand because you don’t have the memories, the experience. It can be a terrible thing to be the last at the table that used to be filled with so many friends.”

“You didn’t try very hard,” Claire muttered. She was still angry, remembering her frantic hammering on the door.

“No. I’m very used to manipulating people, seeing them as objects. It’s easier, you see. I am, in my way, just as monstrous as Morganna was. Which is why I must retire. This world, this wonderful, complex, gentle world, needs guardians who have not been rendered callous by too many centuries of life.”

“ _Gentle?_ _”_

“Oh, Fair Claire, you have no idea.” Merlin took a sip of the coffee that the waitress had brought. “Wonderful food, though using forks and knives for everything can be a bit confusing.”

“I don’t know…” Claire shook her head. “I’m…”

“You’re a child who became a soldier, a follower who had to become a leader. As did Jim. As did Toby.” Merlin said softly. “In my time, war came upon us earlier, but even among Uther and Arthur, you three would have been held in esteem—especially because you had _so_ little preparation.” He looked over at a group of teens, mooning at a boy-band magazine. “But there is the price. None of _them_ have killed. None of them have felt the terror of death. That is a gulf that will take some time and work to overcome. And then there will be others who do not know or who do not care what you’ve done, and will expect you to fade back into your place and play the obedient child once again.”

“So, what do you want me to do, ignore them?” Claire said.

“If you want to end up like me, certainly.”

_What?_

“After all, if it’s hard to get back, to talk to people who might not understand, you can always just throw yourself into another desperate conflict. Spend your time spinning webs and making plans and then you may never be _able_ to go back.”

“I really don’t want to just go back to…” Claire stared at a girl, wailing that her life was over, _over_ because she was grounded on Saturday. Last Saturday, they’d been dealing with a sudden outbreak of angry rock-hounds that had decided they wanted to snack on Troll.

“Then don’t. Demand to be treated as an adult, make them treat you on your _own_ terms, Fair Claire, but that doesn’t mean you must forever stand apart.” Merlin smiled. “I have a theater presentation to see—Camelot, if you can believe it. But I do have _one_ last suggestion.”

“What?”

Merlin handed her a card, a number written on it in his elegant script. “Doctor Lake and I were talking, a process made much easier by a lack of brooms that can strike me through a phone. She suggested that you and Jim might have issues adapting, and suggested a friend of hers, a New Jersey doctor specializing in P.T.S.D.” Merlin pronounced each letter separately. “Apparently, it is a field that helps individuals deal with past experiences. She suggested that had I had it in my time, I may have been less of a ‘flaming asshole.’”

Claire burst out into laughter. “Doctor Lake said _that?_ ”

“Yes. Those who save the world never receive the thanks that is due to them, though she did offer to pay for a lobotomy for me, whatever that is.” Claire looked up and realized that there was a gleam of humor in the ancient wizard’s eyes.

“Well, she’s right.”

“Oh, perfectly so. She and Arthur could have spent days listing my faults.” A flicker of memory passed through his eyes, and Claire caught Merlin glance at the empty seat at the table, as if he expected someone to be there. Then, he shook his head. “So!” Merlin said. “I must be off. Just remember, after playing such a role in saving this delightful world, it would be a pity if you and the Trollhunter cut yourselves off from it.” Then he was walking, a silver headed walking stick in one hand (and where had he gotten _that!)_ the crowds almost unconsciously parting around him.

Claire stared, watching as Merlin vanished into the crowds, then picked up the card. She had been having bad dreams but…

_Right. First thing tomorrow, talk to mom and dad about getting emancipated.  I can_ _’t help the trolls if I have truant and curfew officers breathing down my neck. Then call this doctor and find out if he’ll also talk to trollhunters. Then, talk to Jim about how we’re going to make a home here. People know about trolls now, so there’s no sense hiding in the shadows…_ Claire looked up at the crowds around her.

Merlin was right. They’d _paid_ to save this world. Why _couldn_ _’t_ they be a part of it?

 


	3. The Wizard and the Woodcutter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Merlin have a chat behind his house. Well past Season 3.

The axe dug into the wood, the sound echoing through the growing dusk. Jim kept the pace up—he might be nocturnal, but few of their neighbors were, and nobody liked being woken up at 4AM.   
  
Winter was coming, and they had a fireplace that both Claire and Jim had fallen in love with—and a backyard that was overgrown and posed a fire hazard in the summer. The answer was simple.   
  
Trollhunters made good woodcutters after all.   
  
Jim had to admit he loved the winter— the snow, snuggling with Claire and June and little Stacy, as well as the pleasurable fact that the sun set early in the winter. Not having to rush to beat the closing hour or stick to the 24-hour stores made shopping _incredibly_ easier.   
  
Helping get the snow shoveled so they could move the car out of the driveway—well, that was a little less pleasurable, but even so, being the trollhunter counted for something even if it was just wielding the shovel of Death To Snow.  
  
“Working as a woodcutter? I’d expect you could pay someone to do it for you.”  
  
Jim put the axe down. There would have been a time when the armor would have flown onto him at that voice, but well, nearly eight years did wonders for your self control. “I’ve always enjoyed doing things myself, Merlin. Besides, there’s some fun to doing… Ordinary things.”   
  
Merlin looked the same, well, except for the fact that he was wearing a pair of slacks and a shirt with DISNEY PRINCESS SHOW emblazoned on it. Merlin followed Jim’s gaze.  
  
“It’s interesting to see how mankind remakes the legends for every new generation. You know, I found it interesting when I was looking you up.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Twenty four, and you’ve already saved the world. You could be living in a mansion, a powerful man and yet… Your wife handles consultations for mystic affairs and you…”  
  
“Am getting gray hair,” Jim said.  
  
“Oh?”  
  
Jim let his frustration boil over. “The Joint Human-Troll Law Enforcement Task Force is almost ready to go. Four years of everyone from Blinky to the Attorney General, with me in the middle of the room.” Jim didn’t mention to Merlin how sometimes he felt out of place. He was _younger_ than some of the officials and interns who prefaced every sentence with “Sir.” “And now, when everything is _finally_ ready, It’s held up.”  
  
“Oh?”   
  
“Yes,” Jim glared at an inoffensive log. “By the important question of whether it will be the Joint Human-Troll Law Enforcement Task Force, _or_ the Joint _Troll-Human_ Law Enforcement Task Force.” He sighed. “And I’d hoped that it was going to get finished this week. Do you _realize_ how many books I’ve read? And I thought _high school_ was hard.”  
  
“Why do you bother?”  
  
“Because, more and more trolls are appearing. We’ve gotten people—changelings who had offspring. Some humans with trollish attributes have been born and nobody knows _where_ that came from, only at some point in their family tree, it did. And the law has to be ready to handle them, we need more people who can handle them, because I was barely able to handle _Trollmarket,_ let alone everything going on in the United States. People, troll, changeling and human, need to know that the law can protect them.”   
  
“Passionate. And once again I am reminded why you were chosen, Jim.” Merlin sat in the gathering darkness. “You know, I could have found a better warrior, someone looking for glory. Even among humans there were many who would have met Gunmar with guns and fire, who would have organized an army to win the fight…”  
  
“It wouldn’t have stopped there.” Jim shook his head. “That sort of thing never does. He would have kept going.”  
  
“Yes. It needed someone who had a foot in both worlds, not to be a warrior, but a peacemaker. The kind of peacemaker I never could be…” Merlin sighed. “I raised up kings and princes, but they often measured their achievements in the bodies of their enemies and those achievements never lasted…”  
  
“Like Alexander the Great,” Jim said. “Conquers half the world and it flies apart right after he dies.”  
  
“You don’t sound like you admire him.”  
  
“Not even. Give me George Washington or Cincinnatus any day of the week.” At Merlin’s look, Jim stared. “What. Do you think _Claire_ was going to stand for an ignoramus for a husband? I’ve got my BA.”   
  
Merlin snorted. “Yes, I think that is wise. The Fair Claire isn’t someone to get angry at you.  
  
“You have no idea…” Jim said. “Is there some crisis I should be getting ready for?”  
  
“Oh. No, none of that. Just a question, and a gift…”  
  
“Your last gift…” Jim shook his head. “Well, what’s the question?”  
  
“I took your humanity from you.”  
  
“I decided…”  
  
“You were sixteen, away from your friends and mentors. I have lived for centuries and learned to use my words no less well than my sorcery. After I finished talking to you, you were no more likely to refuse the potion than Arthur was likely to tell me I was wrong and Excalibur wasn’t his destiny. He was fourteen, at the time, though already a squire.” Merlin looked at Jim, for a moment seeing something else.  
  
_How many ghosts live behind those eyes?_ Jim wondered.   
  
“Have you forgiven me?” Merlin asked.   
  
Jim didn’t answer for a moment, tugging at his lumberjack style shirt that Claire had bought him. “You cost me my graduation from high school. My last two years. I burst into tears when I realized that everyone else was marching that day, and I was here. College…” He looked up. “Well, I was distance learning and night school—couldn’t take time away. Claire…” he shook his head. “I’m more angry at you for her sake. She deserved to have fun, doing theater, maybe joining a sorority.”  
  
“I doubt she would have done _that!”_  
  
“They have all types,” Jim said, flicking a wood chip in Merlin’s direction. “And she’d have loved it,but then June was born and so Claire had to ram her BA through in two years. She had fun, but it was… really stressful.” And Merlin wouldn’t know how stressful it was, when Claire was freaking out and losing sleep and bursting into tears at odd times…  
  
Not from Jim at least.   
  
“I—”  
  
“ _But_.” Jim raised a finger. “The death toll at Arcadia was bad enough. If I hadn’t been a half-troll, Gunmar would have stomped me like a bug on a plate and things would be magnitudes worse. Don’t think eternal night would have continued, but well, after the US nailed it with a fusion bomb, I doubt _Arcadia_ would have cared much how things turned out and the death toll would have been obscene. I’m in a position to make things better, so that nobody has to do it in the future… I’m still not… _happy_ , not completely, but sometimes, ideal isn’t in the cards. We’ve made a pretty damned good life, after all.” He shook his head. “And it’s not like we’re the only soldiers who found out that we could never come back to the home we left. Our changes were just a little more obvious.”  
  
“I see.” Merlin sighed. “Now for my gift. I believe you’ve been troubled at the thought that you might have a trollish lifespan—unlike your family.”  
  
“You have been spyin—” Jim tensed.  
  
“Hah!” Merlin’s laugh was loud. “My boy, a blind man could see how much you love your wife, your family. It takes no great genius to realize that you would consider long outliving them no gift.”  
  
Jim relaxed. “So…”  
  
“So, I am many things. But I am not a god. Your essence was mixed, but your soul shall be counted among the children of man. You will live a long life, you shall be blessed by vigor until your last days… But your life will be counted long by _man_. Not by trolls. If you do not die from accident or violence…” Merlin shook his head. “Well, whichever one of you departs to the unknown country will not have long to wait to be joined by their soulmate.”   
  
“You know,” Jim said with a chuckle. “This is probably one of the few times someone telling you ‘you’re going to die sooner than some think’ counts as _good_ news.” He shook his head. “I’m about done here. Do you want to come in?”  
  
“Oh no, my boy. I have a concert in Los Angeles to be at. I just wanted to drop by…”  
  
“Okay,” Jim said. _Always the outsider, never making friends, only acquaintances…_ He stared at the ancient wizard. _How many close friends did you lose before you decided: no more?_   
  
Suddenly Jim hoped that Merlin wouldn’t delay. He wanted nothing more than to leave the suddenly chilly back yard and go into his home, where Claire and June and Stacy waited for him.   
  
“Still,” Merlin mused. “If you have any spells that need working?”  
  
“Can you cast a spell to make ancient trolls and government officials stop acting like toddlers who need a nap?” Jim asked.  
  
Merlin laughed. “Oh, we’re back to needing a _god_ , as opposed to a mere wizard.  Well, then, I’ll be off!” He raised his hand, and moments later, the yard was empty.  


* * *

  
  
When Jim came inside, he luxuriated in the warmth of the house.  Claire was curled up on the couch in her Papa Skull nightgown, finishing up some paperwork.  
  
“Kids in bed?” Jim asked.  
  
“Yeah, June’s got an early day tomorrow and Stacy…” Claire giggled. “We were reading the _Fellowship of the Ring_ ,”  
  
“Oh, I bet she loves it.”  
  
“Yeah, but she has an order for you.”  
  
“Which is?”  
  
“If I ever go to the Mines of Moria, you _have_ to come with me, because the wizard needs someone who will _catch_ them when the balrog tries to drag them down.” She smirked. “So will you?”  
  
Jim smiled. “Catch you? Always, Claire.”  He sat down next to her and put his arms around his wife. “Always.”  
  



End file.
